Alpha Centauri: A Peek into the Life of Andromeda Sims
by Aureus Lux
Summary: This will be a selection of one-shots that take place in my own Alpha-verse, revolving around deleted scenes, between the scenes, and other typical and regular cracky or angsty or fluffy one-shots. There will be most likely some gore later on. Some may be connected to the series itself, but if so, I will say so in a pre-story A/N. Rated "T" because I'm overly cautious.
1. Adoption Possibility I

**Heyy! While I'm still trying to figure out plotlines and such, here's a couple one-shots that I thought of right after I wrote the scene where Andy's waiting in the hotel. These are other possibilities that could've gone down. This is where she was sent to an orphanage.**

**I do NOT own Batman/Young Justice etc.**

* * *

SATURDAY, Oct. 8, 2011

The next two weeks rush by in an emotionless blur. Papers are signed. Attorneys are consulted. I'm shoved into a local orphanage.

Oh, joy.

The funeral is organized and held the next week. Other than me and Stephan, most of the rest of the circus and the crew attend the service. My parents are to be laid to rest in the Gotham City Cemetery. The burial is held on Saturday, the 8th of October.

Of course, it has to rain.

I spend most of the time fidgeting with my clothing: a figure-hugging long-sleeved black V-neck that stretches just past my hips, black skinny-jeans, and black ballet flats. I do talk to the people attending, but other than that, I do not say anything. A couple hours later, Stephan, two other men, and I are the only ones left under the overhang.

"Everything will work out," he tries to comfort me. He checks his Rolex watch. "I have to go now. Will you be okay here?"

"Yeah. I'll be fine."

"Okay. Bye, kiddo." He hugs me one last time before rushing out into the pouring rain.

About two minutes after Stephan leaves, I hear muffled footsteps approaching from behind. Barely turning my head, I observe the man out of the corner of my eye. I can sense he doesn't mean any harm, but I don't let my ever-present guard drop. I make a mental note to put him in the hospital for the next month if he makes a move that I don't like.

He looks like your typical tall, dark, and handsome guy, with his black hair and intelligent blue eyes. By the length of his stride I can tell that he stands just over six feet tall. His strong figure matches the silhouette of the mystery man in the tent. But I know I've seen his figure before; his height, the width of his shoulders, and the way he walks...

I'm not in the mood to talk. Before he can say or do anything, I turn and run past him, back into the pouring rain. I hope that the rain will hide my tears.

* * *

TUESDAY, Oct. 11, 2011

I shift my position on the oak tree's high branches, careful not to snag my clothing or drop my book, _The Bourne Identity_. Yeah, it's a book. Look it up. I'm currently reading the French version because I had already read it in English and wanted to try it out in French. Right now I'm at page two hundred and fifty.

Anyways, I'm at the part where Jason decides to-

"_ANDROMEDA_!"

And that would be Alison Herbert, the social worker working on my case.

Well, shiznit.

See, I've been getting everyone here to like me, but just for fun, I decided to piss just her off. She already hated me from the beginning; I don't even know why. Probably because I'm a circus rat and she's rich and "so above me" (_sarcasm_). I use that to my gain. I know that teens are usually harder to find potential homes for, so I created a plan.

My theory works like this: when a potential guardian comes to see me, they'll ask everyone else and they'll say nice things because they like me. But when they'll talk to Alison, she'll say how _horrible_ I was. People will believe everyone else, because the majority said nicer things, and people tend to listen to the majority. After talking to my social worker, they'll feel a bit sorry for me, seeing how nice I am and how unfair this lady is to me, and want to adopt me.

One of the many things that I've been doing to further annoy her is reverting to mostly speaking French (my social worker doesn't speak a word of the language! Ha!). My background story is that my native language is French (my accent is perfect) and since my previous adopted parents spoke French, they were willing to teach me English.

Unfortunately, names are the same in most foreign languages, including French. Can't ignore this bitch any longer.

"Andromeda!" the middle-aged woman calls again, this time a bit nicer. Hmm... There must be a potential guardian with her. Whenever someone comes to see me, she always sucks up, hoping they'll adopt me and I'll be out of her hands. I've managed to successfully scare all the others away- one of them was a guy, I couldn't tell how old he was, but he had white hair, a creepy goatee/beard, and an eye patch. Last name was a sports company.

He was a definite _Hell no_.

And all of the others just didn't seem... I don't know, _right_, I guess?

Anyways, I peer down through the branches and see Alison, wearing a black skirt and matching blazer, standing next to a man in a navy blue business suit. All I can see from this angle is that he has slicked dark hair and tanned skin, most likely from the actual sun, thank god. I'm sorry, but spray-tans just disgust me.

I call down, "_Attrapez ce s'il vous plaît_!" and she tilts her dumb-blonde little head back to look up and barely manages to hold up her arms in time to block her face from being slightly redesigned. Instead, the man has caught the book. After retracting his arm, he reads the book title and flips through the pages. After a second I sense him raise his eyebrow in interest.

This is when I decide to make my entrance. I stand up on the branch I was just sitting on, hop down to a lower branch (one that's only about ten feet off the ground) and do a double front flip off of that. I land, crouched, in front of the two adults. I then stand up straight raise my arms like, Ta-da! The man, who is a bit startled, smiles and chuckles.

"_Très désolé, monsieur_," I pant in a perfect accent, smiling, as I hike up my jeans and adjust my maroon sweater.

Alison, however, is not impressed. Turning to me, she snaps, "What did I tell you about the acrobatics?"

Seeing the glare on her face, I pretend to be ashamed. I do not say anything, though- I just look down at my Airwalks. Wearing a so-totally-obviously phony smile, she turns back to the man.

"I'm so sorry you had to see that," she sucks up. She walks over to stand behind me. "She's very disobedient."

I like the term "insubordinate" better. It sounds more rebellious and less delinquent, unlike "disobedient."

"Andromeda," she says in her Idiot Tone. It's what I call the voice she speaks in to me because she thinks I don't speak or understand much English.

"This. Is Bruce Wayne. He is here. To _talk_. To you."

So. Bruce Wayne, huh? This is a bit of an upgrade. I tilt my head, wondering why a socialite would be so interested in _me_. He is different from the rest, I can tell. Something just clicks into place.

As I walk closer she places her hand on my shoulder and digs her nails into my skin. It does hurt a bit and I think there will be marks, even through my clothes.

Time to play Bruce's heart like a harp.

"!" I wince. Bruce looks at me in pity when I look up through my eyelashes at him.

"My name is Andromeda Sims," I enunciate through my fake French accent.

"_Ne vous inquiétez pas_," Bruce says as he hands me my book. "_Je peux parler français_."

My eyes widen. _That_ was just a bit unexpected.

"_Vous... voulez m'adopter_?" I ask hesitantly.

"_Oui_," the billionaire replies.

But _why_?

"So, what do you say?"

Slowly, I nod. "I... will go," I confirm, still in my accent.

Alison sighs in relief. "I'll go get the forms." She scurries off.

The moment she's out of earshot, I turn to Bruce. "I… do not mean to sound rude," I begin, still in my false disguise, "but why do you want to... take me in?"

"Well..." Bruce looks off, trying to think of what to say. "I know what you are going through, and I feel like I could understand you better than anyone else could." His voice is soft and deep, and he speaks clearly to make sure I can understand everything he says. He doesn't use an Idiot Tone like Alison uses. He doesn't think I'm stupid, like she does.

I smile. I'm about to say something when Alison returns. So instead, I duck my head again.

"Here are the forms you need," she says handing some papers to my new guardian.

"Okay," he says, taking them. He then turns to me. "_Pourquoi ne pas rassembler vos affaires pendant que je discute de ces formes avec Alison_?"

"_Bien_," I nod. I rush off to my dorm. I shove _The Bourne Identity_ in a front pouch of a suitcase and zip it up. All my regular clothes and my costumes are still packed in my two suitcases; I never used the given dresser in my room. When I go through a list of my electronics, that's when I remember my secret stash of... certain necessities.

I lie down flat on the hardwood flooring and reach under my bed. My fingers grip the handle of a titanium and lead-lined briefcase. I drag it out, unlock it with the key hanging on a chain around my neck, and remove the false top.

Underneath are shining guns, knives, and katanas originating from both Earth and my home planet. In addition, there's five hundred thousand dollars in US, European, and Chinese currency, each; multiple passports, driver's licenses, birth certificates, and ID cards; and more colored contacts and some hair dye.

I run through all possible scenarios of the jeopardization of my true identity. I push my long sleeves up my arm and summon small amounts of light to both hands. The light streams down my arms to decorate my skin in ancient Astridarin symbols that came in the package with my powers.

Any abilities that an Astridarin might have will also come with a set of symbols engraved on our skin where the power originates from. For mind-reading or telekinesis, the symbols might be at your temples. For sonic scream, the symbols would run down the sides of your neck. For fire controlling, water controlling, etc., the markings would be at your hands and arms. The only abilities that don't have markings are flight and clairvoyance.

The streaks of light whirl and spiral up to my elbows. After I stop using my abilities, the patterns will eventually fade to just markings, then back to my normal skin tone. When I'm in my true form, the markings don't fade to match my skin. Tiny cursive letters stretch across the back of both of my wrists: "_Lux vexillifer et Vita dator_" which is Astridarin for "Light bearer and Life giver."

I snap out of my trance, hoping Bruce and Alison are still talking and not wondering where I am. I attach a strap to my briefcase that will allow me to carry it over my shoulder. Clutching both suitcases, I hobble back outside. I see where Bruce and Alison are standing. Waiting with them now is an older man, wearing a chauffeur hat and a trench coat. When I join their circle, he turns to me.

"Mademoiselle Andromeda?" he says.

"_Oui_," is my reply.

"I can take your luggage to the car," he tells me. He has a British accent. This will be entertaining later.

Pretending to be a bit unsure, I motion to my suitcases like, you'll take this for me? and he nods. I maneuver the suitcases by their handles so they stand in front of me. "I can take this," I inform him, motioning to my briefcase. "_Merci_."

He nods in understanding. "That is fine." He then takes the suitcases in gloved hands and walks to the car.

I turn back to face Bruce and Bitc- uh, I mean Alison.

"You just need to sign them and drop them off at City Hall," she explains. She lowers her voice as she says the next couple sentences.

"Are you sure about this? She's a real trouble-maker, she's disobedient... You know, if you ask me, I don't think her parents did the best job of raising her..."

Ex_cuse_ me?

I jerk my head up and give her a death glare. They say looks can kill...

"My _parents_," I growl, dropping my faux accent. Both Bruce and Alison turn and stare at me in shock. "Did just _FINE_ raising me!"

"You... you could understand everything I said?" she squeaks.

"Oh, yes!" I seethe. "And for the record, it must've been _your_ parents who did a shitty job raising their kid! Teaching you that just because you have more money, you're better than anyone else, is that right? Well, let me tell you something: you're _not_! Look, I'm sorry if your parents were cold or too busy for you or whatever. But that shouldn't make _you_ cold; it should give you something to aspire to be _better_ than. But it looks like you're doing a crappy job of that, too."

I turn to Bruce. "I can understand if you wouldn't want to go through with my adoption. If you do, you probably won't see that side of me for a while..."

He shakes his head. "The only thing that's changed is my knowledge of you being able to stand up for yourself, and what is right."

I smile up at him. "Thanks... thank you."

* * *

**French Terminology:**

**Attrapez ce s'il vous plaît: Catch this please**

**Très désolé, monsieur: I'm very sorry, sir**

**Ne vous inquiétez pas...Je peux parler français: Do not worry...I can speak French**

**Vous... voulez m'adopter?: You... want to adopt me?**

**Oui: Yes**

**Pourquoi ne pas rassembler vos affaires pendant que je discute de ces formes avec Alison?: Why don't you gather your stuff while I discuss these forms with Alison?**

**Bien: Okay**

**Oui: Yes**

**Merci: Thank you**

* * *

**So. How did you like it? There's a second one I came up with, where she was sent to the juvie center, like Dick was. That's the next chapter.**


	2. Adoption Possibility II

**Part two in what could've gone down instead of the hotel. In this installment, Andy is sent to girl's juvie, like how Dick was sent to juvie because there wasn't enough room in any of the local orphanages. Enjoy!**

**As usual, I own only what you don't recognize.**

* * *

SATURDAY, Oct. 8, 2011

The next two weeks rush by in an emotionless blur. Papers are signed. Attorneys are consulted. I'm shoved into a local orphanage. Well, instead, a Juvenile Delinquent center because apparently, there's no room at the orphanage. I don't know which is sadder. I would run away, but I'm just not up for it right now. Maybe next month...

The funeral is organized and held the next week. Other than me and Stephan, most of the rest of the circus and the crew attend the service. My parents are to be laid to rest in the Gotham City Cemetery. The burial is held on Saturday, the 8th of October.

Of course, it has to rain.

I spend most of the time fidgeting with my clothing: a figure-hugging long-sleeved black V-neck that stretches just past my hips, black skinny-jeans, and black ballet flats. I do talk to the people attending, but other than that, I do not say anything. A couple hours later, Stephan, Alison Herbert the social worker, two other men, and I are the only ones left under the overhang.

"Everything will work out," he tries to comfort me. He checks his Rolex watch. "I have to go now. Will you be okay here?"

"Yeah. I'll be fine."

"Okay. Bye, kiddo." He hugs me one last time before rushing out into the pouring rain.

About two minutes after Stephan leaves, I hear muffled footsteps approaching from behind. Barely turning my head, I observe the man out of the corner of my eye. I can sense he doesn't mean any harm, but I don't let my ever-present guard drop. I make a mental note to put him in the hospital for the next month if he makes a move that I don't like.

He looks like your typical tall, dark, and handsome guy, with his black hair and intelligent blue eyes. By the length of his stride I can tell that he stands just over six feet tall. His strong figure matches the silhouette of the mystery man in the tent. But I know I've seen his figure before; his height, the width of his shoulders, and the way he walks...

Still severely saddened, I am in no mood to talk to anyone. I turn on my heel and strut past the man to where Alison is waiting.

"Are you ready to go?" she asks me.

I only gaze up at her sadly.

"Well, I'm not happy about you staying at the center, but at least it's warm... warm_er_... and a stable roof over your head," she adds as we walk to her car, where my luggage is waiting. We climb in and set off for the center. I'm _underwhelmed_ by my excitement. When we arrive I gulp nervously.

Why me?

I turn to Alison. "I doubt that I'll be needing my clothing and/or luggage here. I was wondering... if you could keep them safe for me, until I get adopted or taken in."

She looks at me for a while before slowly nodding. "Yes. I will."

* * *

TUESDAY, Oct. 11, 2011

It's been just over a week, and I seem to have made a couple acquaintances, even though I don't approve of how they act; they're a bit too... I don't know.  
I lie awake, staring at the ceiling of my cell. I woke up before the lights are turned on again, which is at eight. Breakfast is at eight-thirty. Right now, it's seven-fifty-seven, twenty minutes after I first opened my eyes. I'm required to wear this stupid, god-awful orange jumpsuit (neon tangerine is really not one of my better colors). I bet you can't guess what my jumpsuit number is: two-four-six-oh-one.

Yeah. I know.

I started singing "Look Down" before the guy running the place smacked me and yelled at me. I didn't talk for the rest of that day.

The lights flicker on, as usual. Half a boring hour later, the barred cell doors unlock for us to go get food. I roll out of bed and finger-comb through my long hair, which is already in a high ponytail. I change my socks, slip on my sneakers, and amble to the cafeteria. I take a bowl and pour some Cheerios and milk. I grab a spoon as I search for a place at a table to sit down. I spot a Hispanic girl with a spiky pixie cut. She's around sixteen and goes by her last name, Vasquez. I've come to like her enough. She told me she got in here for constantly stealing.

"Hey, Vasquez!" I call out. She turns and sees me, then motions for me to sit next to her. When I'm just about to slide in to my seat, a girl named Angela grabs my shoulder and hauls me back up. Thankfully, I had already put my bowl down.

Whiter than WonderBread and on the porkier side, Vasquez told me she got in because she started so many fights at her old school. I've tried to avoid the girls who got in for more violent offenses, but Angela's action makes it hard for me to do so now.

"I was gonna sit there!" she shouts in my face.

"Hey, look, I'm sorry, but you were way over there," I try to reason as I point to the other side of the room, where she was a few seconds ago. "I didn't know."

"That still doesn't give you the right to steal _my_ seat!"

"Look, I-"

"You think you're so cool, _don'tchya_?" She pushes me on the word "cool" to emphasize. "Huh? Just because you're not even supposed to _be_ here? Well lemme tell you something!"

By now, some of the other kids have quieted down, listening in on our altercation.

"You're nothin' but a circus rat," she continues, pushing me again. "A worthless," push, "weak," push, "pathetic," pu-

Nope. Not a chance in Hell. The red anger bubbling in the pit of my stomach finally boils over.

On the final push, I grab her right wrist with my right hand and yank her downwards into my knee. I hear a soft crunch in her nose. She straightens, trying to regain her composure and wipe the blood away.

"You think I'm _weak_, huh?" I growl as I deliver a side kick to her stomach, and she doubles.

"How about _NOW_?" I jump and land a front kick to her jaw, a blow that knocks her back and probably cracks some of her teeth. A couple of her fellow cellmates rush to her side and assist her in getting back up. They look back at me in anger and fear before scurrying off. I turn on my heel and grimly return to my seat.

"Whoa, girl!" Vasquez claps me on the shoulder. "You got some serious moves!"

"I took karate for several years," I tell her monotonously as I shovel my cereal.

"That explains it."

"_ANDROMEDA SIMS_!" bellows a burly, biker-type dude named Hudson. He's bald, has a graying stubbly beard and smells like beer. I wouldn't be surprised to find out he's single. Or divorced. Or murdered his wife.

Anyhoo, I get up and quickly shuffle over to where Hudson is standing. "Yeah?"

"Git yer stuff," he growls. "Yer leavin'."

My eyes widen as I sprint back to my room to get my one, unopened suitcase. The bag I'd given to Alison contained my costumes, and my titanium, lead-lined briefcase held certain... necessities for if I ever needed to go into hiding. I wasn't worried about her or anyone else opening it; the case has Astridarin tech, so they'd need a key, which I _always_ keep around my neck, and my eye scanned to open it.

I rush back to my outside, suitcase in tow, ready to meet whoever is going to take me in. I'm let into the lobby, where Alison is waiting with the prison warden and a man in a suit.

The same man I saw at my parents' funeral.

Before I can say anything, the warden says, "Would you care to explain that fight to us?"

I'm tempted to retort with a "No" but instead I reply, "She shouted in my face, insulted me, accused me of something that I clearly didn't do, and then proceeded to assault me. My actions were merely a reflex, me defending myself. She got what she deserved."

"You broke her nose and chipped some of her teeth."

"People always say to stand up against what's wrong. And she was clearly hurting you."

My eyes widen slightly and I raise my eyebrow at the man who just spoke. "Hello."

"Hi," he says. His voice is soft and deep. "I'm Bruce Wayne."

I shake his hand. "How's it goin'?"

"Good, you?"

I give him a look like, do you really want me to answer that? Instead I say, "Yo, check out my number!" and show him the patch reading "24601" as I smile smugly. Obviously, having done a production of _Les Miserables_, a song comes to mind. I then puff out my chest in my best imitation of Mr. Wayne and sing in my best masculine voice:

_"I found her wandering in the wood_  
_This little child, I found her trembling in the shadows_  
_And I am here to help Cosette_  
_And I will settle any debt you may think proper"_

I would've continued, had the warden not rudely interrupted me. "Andromeda, what did we say about singing?"

"Well, to be honest," I start, "after you had Hudson hit me- which left a bruise- I kinda tuned you out, so..." I unzip my jumpsuit and pull the top part down to my hips, revealing a maroon tank top. I turn around to show everyone the dark blue splotch on my left shoulder blade. How am I supposed to spin a flag now? Or even a saber or a rifle? Or do _most_ things? It's bad enough with a sore bicep!

I listen as Alison and Bruce gasp. I tie the sleeves around my waist and turn back around to face them. A stony expression masks my emotions.

"Andromeda, put on your jumpsuit properly!" the warden yells at me.

"No, I will not." I smirk. "What gives you the right to boss me around so rudely? The fact that you're older than me? Pshh! I'm not even under your fucking _jurisdiction_ anymore!"

I turn to Bruce. "When're we leaving?"

"Now," he growls, aiming his glare on the warden and Hudson.

"Here are the papers," the warden says. "Just drop 'em at City Hall."

Bruce takes said papers and turns back to me. "Is there anything you need to get?"

I nod. "Yeah. My suitcase and the Hell outta this thing," I gesture to the offensive jumpsuit.

"Well, once you have everything, we can be on our way."

"Sweet! I'll be just a bit." I race off to my cell to collect my deep blue suitcase, which had stayed unopened for my entire stay, save for underwear etc. As I come back out, though, I'm blocked by Vasquez.

"So, you gettin' out, huh?" she asks.

"Yeah."

She pulls me in for an unexpected embrace. "You stay away from trouble, you hear? This isn't the kind of like you want to live. Do something good."

"Yeah. You too, okay? Promise me that, when you get out, you'll contact me. I'll be on Facebook."

"I sure as Hell will." She claps me on the back a couple of times before letting me go; thankfully, she remains mindful of my still sore bruise. She grins smugly yet warmly. "I'm proud of you, kid."

"I better see you around!" I call as I make my way to the lobby, past a few fellow inmates who were congratulating me on my victory against Angela.

"Back atchya!"

I back up through the double doors to the lobby, waving all the way. As soon as they close, though, I turn to Bruce and say, "Yeah, I usually find myself questioning my own choice in friends. But hey, as long as I don't get into illegal crap, then my life won't be so complicated."

"Are you ready to go?" he asks.

I smirk. "I have never been more so." As I roll my suitcase out to the waiting- limo? Cool!-, I make sure to give the bird to the warden and Hudson. A man who introduces himself as Alfred Pennyworth the butler takes my bag and stores it in the trunk. He opens the door so Bruce and I can slide in, closes it, and then hurries around to the drivers' seat.

"I apologize," I blurt. "I did not get a chance to properly introduce myself. I am Andromeda Sims. I'm thirteen. And I admit that I did not get a chance to finish my breakfast. Any possibility of swinging by a Dunkin' Donuts?"

* * *

**Another possibility. If I had actually used this, I would've brought back Vasquez. If you want me to, though, I will bring Vasquez into my current story. Just comment!**


End file.
